


So Far Beyond Subtlety

by BooSkiddoo



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gen, Insomnia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooSkiddoo/pseuds/BooSkiddoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post C.O.D.</p>
<p>Reese has taken up pacing and Finch has given up sleeping. This works out surprisingly well for everyone involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Far Beyond Subtlety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladychan101](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ladychan101).



> for ladychan101 over on tumblr for the irrelevants gift exchange

Reese had never really been much of a fidgeter, even as a child. He was capable of the sort of focus that tended to unnerve people, if he wasn’t careful. It had always given him a leg up when it came to learning new skills and rote memorization. Cover identities and rifle training--those were the sorts of things that had always been right up his alley. But recently? Recently he had taken to pacing. _Pacing_ , of all things.

Pacing and twiddling.

He turned his phone over and over again in short little hops, front to back to front, thinking about nothing as he strode along the wall of windows in his...home? His apartment, anyway.

It was dark out, and with the lights on it was nearly impossible to see anything that was going on outside. Reese knew that he could be seen perfectly well by any passer by. A year, a few months ago, this would have bothered him to distraction. He wouldn’t have been able to rest until he obscured the luxurious lines of the tall, tall windows with heavy blackout curtains. Now, though? It hardly bothered him at all and he couldn’t really say why except that...

He stopped dead in his tracks, the face of the little device in his hand staring passively up at him, shiny and black. The weight of it was familiar, comfortable, right.

_Always, Mr Reese._

“You there, Finch?” he said to the silence.

A pause, and then “We’ve been over this, Mr Reese.”  

“Sure, when we’re working. Last time I checked, these aren’t exactly our normal operating hours.”

“And the last time I checked, we didn’t have normal operating hours. Although if you’d like to suggest some, I’d happily take them into consideration.”

Reese rubbed at the base of his ear where the little receiver was nestled comfortably and resumed walking, this time in an unhurried, meandering route around the loft.

“Nine to five? Holidays off?” he suggested, the edge of his mouth quirking up into a private smile.

“Isn’t that a little expected, coming from someone who used to work for the government? No, I’d much prefer ‘by appointment only.’”

“Our current system, then.”

“I suppose.” A deep sigh from Finch hissed over the line. “Theoretically, anyway.”

Reese hesitated. Finch sounded exhausted, irritated. It wasn’t hard for Reese to imagine him, sitting at his desk in the library, lit only by the glow of his computer screens, one hand reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose where the slight pressure of his glasses had transitioned from noticeable to irritating to painful, Bear waiting patiently for the end of the day when they could both go home. But that wasn’t right--their latest case had ended well, there were no more loose ends to tie up, at least as far as Reese knew.

“Is there a new number, Finch?” The words had become a sort of mantra for them both, the beginning of a ritual.

“No...” Finch said slowly, ritual broken, potential diffused. “Was there something you needed?”

“Just wanted to see if you really meant it when you said that you were always there” Reese teased.

A pause, which could either be guilty or calculating. “All evidence to the contrary, I don’t spend all my time monitoring your line.”

“So what do you do with your time, then?”

“Have we really moved so far beyond subtlety?”

“Well, I didn’t get very far with the baseball thing. Thought I’d mix it up a bit.”

Finch huffed out an appreciative little laugh. “Very well. Currently, I am spending my time maintaining my various identities. It’s hardly an engaging pastime, as I’m sure you well know.”

Reese did know. Despite most of his various personas having been developed and given to him by other parties, they had occasionally required paperwork, public appearances, that sort of thing.

“Alright,” Reese said, “that explains why you’re still working, but not why you’re still listening in.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Total shutdown. It was revealing in its own way: Finch had gotten comfortable enough to give Reese little snippets of his past, although whether it was because he trusted Reese or because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to piece everything together given his skillset, Reese couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t gotten a brushoff like that since...the diner with the eggs benedict, now that he thought about it. It would have been just as easy for Finch to have played it off, claimed that he had left the line open absentmindedly before he had gotten to work and then had just forgotten about it.

“You listening in on anyone else, or am I special?” Reese let a little bit of a growl creep into his tone, even though he didn’t really mean it.

“Detective Carter, but she and Tyler both went to bed several hours ago. Unlike us, they somehow manage to keep to a regular sleep schedule.”

Reese wandered over to the kitchen, put the kettle on to boil. “Not Fusco?”

“Unfortunately, Detective Fusco has developed the irritating habit of removing the battery from his cell phone, despite my having told him not to.”

“Fusco can be slippery like that.” Reese moved through the kitchen absentmindedly, gathering ingredients. If he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, he might as well make himself useful, he figured.

They worked in near silence for a little while, Finch tapping away at his keyboard half a city away while Reese broke eggs and measured flour. Bear must have woken at some point: Reese could hear the faint squeaking of his newest toy.

“You’re going to spoil that dog if you keep that up.” Reese said, meaning the constant parade of new dog toys and rawhide treats.

“Oh, that’s alright, I figure he’s earned it” Finch returned. “Besides, I have a co-conspirator, Mister Doggy-Danish.”

Reese smiled fondly as he poured batter into a pan. The kettle started to whistle, slow and insistent. Finch’s typing stopped again.

“What are you making?”

“Have we really moved so far beyond subtlety?”

An exasperated sigh.  “Really, Mister Reese?”

Reese laughed. “Coffee cake. I thought we’d take a day off from the donut hunt. Any flavor requests?”

“Hmm...not lemon? And one day you really will have to tell me where you learned to bake. I know where you learned to cook, but baking is...different”

“You once told me you knew everything about me.” Reese slid the pan into the warm, waiting oven.

“I may have...exaggerated, somewhat.”

Reese closed the oven door and leaned his hip against the counter as he fished around inside a cupboard for a mug and a teabag (Twinnings decaf, cheap, nothing special.) He poured hot water into the mug as he considered his next move.

“I learned here and there” he offered. “As I had the time and the resources. It’s not exactly the sort of thing that would be noted on official records.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would be. It’s harder to work in ‘casual baker’ to a cover story than it is ‘good cook.’”

“Speaking from experience, Finch?”

“Perhaps...” he said teasingly. “I fear I’m a better judge than maker, when it comes to food.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. You can’t be good at everything, right?” Reese sipped his tea. “That’s why you hired me: to fill in the gaps.”

“Technically, yes, I suppose. I confess, my thoughts ran more to espionage and combat and less to baking and casual conversation at the time.”

“Consider it a bonus.”

“Oh, I assure you, I do.”

Finch’s tone was open, honest, devoid of any of its usual layers. Which wasn’t to say, Reese thought, that it lacked nuance.

“Come over.”

“What?” Finch sounded shocked. To be fair, Reese was a little surprised himself.

“You sound exhausted,” he reasoned, “and the loft is closer than any of your bolt holes.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Not for sure, no.” Reese shrugged one shoulder, even though Finch couldn’t see him do it.

“Then why offer?” Finch was starting to sound agitated. Reese could hear the creak of his chair as he sat up straighter and started to fidget.

“Why were you still monitoring my line?”

“Really, Mister Reese, I don’t see how--”

“You said you’d never lie to me, Harold.” he interrupted.

The silence was tense, but Reese had learned when to push and when to let Finch work through something on his own.

“I can’t sleep” Finch finally admitted after a while.

That was all he needed to say; Reese got it. It had been a hard few months, and it was pretty clear that Finch still wasn’t fully recovered after his kidnapping. The sound of another person existing in the background, especially a trusted someone, could be extremely comforting.

“All the more reason for you to come over, then.”

“Is it?”

“I’ve heard that misery loves company. Besides, I’ve just put the coffee cake in the oven, could use someone to help me stay awake so that I don’t burn this whole place to the ground. That would be a waste.”

“Well, when you put it that way...”

Reese could hear the sound of Finch bundling himself up and the excited click of Bear’s nails on the hardwood floor.

“See you soon, Finch” he said, and closed the connection. He smiled wistfully to himself as he went to retrieve Bear’s spare doggy bed from the closet that also just happened to contain his extensive arsenal.

********  
\---  
  
Finch’s knock, when it finally came, was hesitant. It was also completely unnecessary--Finch had always had a spare key. Reese wouldn’t have minded if he’d used it, either, but he did appreciate that Finch was trying to give him the semblance of personal space. Considering that they had gotten here because Finch had been freely eavesdropping, Reese wasn’t sure that the attempt could be thought of as even remotely successful, but, well, it was the thought that counted.

  
Reese unlocked the door and let Finch and Bear in, Bear wagging his tail mightily. Reese tossed him a treat, which he caught mid-air with a happy little jump. ** **  
****

Finch, on the other hand, looked far less chipper.

Reese just took his coat and handed him a mug of tea (sencha green, of course), nodding him through to the main room. “You know where everything is.”

Finch looked like he wanted to say something in return but wasn’t sure exactly what that thing was. Reese wouldn’t have been surprised if that was exactly the case--Finch’s face was ashen, the circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual, the curve of his back drooping as much as it was able. Reese nudged his shoulder companionably and nodded toward the main room again.

This finally got Finch moving. He sat down at the kitchen table, following Bear with his eyes as the dog snuffled his way around the semi-familiar apartment, exploring. Those chairs weren’t as comfortable as the ones in the de facto sitting area, but Reese figured that Finch had chosen to sit there because it seemed less presumptuous. It was strange, the kind of invisible barriers that could pop up in a space with so few walls.

He sat down across from Finch with his own tea, the smell of baking thick in the air. Finch couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Reese’s eyes, but Reese was patient. He could wait.

“I’m not sure why I let you talk me into this” Finch said at last.

Reese quirked an eyebrow at him and relaxed further into his chair, but otherwise said nothing. Bear finished his inspection and curled up under the table between them.

Finch narrowed his eyes at Reese. “I’m not sure why you invited me over, when it comes right down to it.”

“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘no man’s an island’?” Reese teased. “Everyone needs a little normal human contact, now and then.”

“And this qualifies as normal human contact?” Finch asked, gesturing between them.

Reese shrugged, opening his hands in a ‘who knows’ gesture?

Finch opened his mouth to reply (no doubt sharply, judging from the look on his face), but the timer in the kitchen went off just as he was about to speak. Reese rose smoothly from his chair and went to retrieve the cake from the oven, tipping it from its pan onto a cooling rack. Frosting and filling would have to wait until later, when the cake had cooled some.

Reese spent a little time cleaning and putting things back into their proper places. When he finally wandered back over to where he had left Finch, it was to find Finch drooping heavily, little shivers wracking his frame as his core body temperature dropped. Reese placed his hand gently on Finch’s shoulder and Finch jerked like he’d been electrocuted, wide blue eyes shooting wildly around the room before finally settling on Reese’s face.

“Come on, Harold, let’s get you to bed.” Reese slid his hand from Finch’s shoulder down to his elbow to offer support as Finch rose stiffly to his feet. Under other circumstances, Reese knew that Finch would be too proud to accept even that marginal assistance. Tired as he was, though, he barely managed to stay standing, swaying gently into the supportive warmth of Reese’s body. Reese wrapped his arm around Finch’s exhausted form and moved them both slowly toward the other end of the loft, their feet shuffling together. Bear hopped up and kept pace with them as they went, glued to Finch’s other side.

“Din’t mean to put you out.” Finch slurred.

“I know you didn’t.” Reese gave Finch a reassuring little squeeze. Finch had no doubt thought they would spend the evening talking about lockpicking or surveillance equipment or the finer points of getting people to look the other way. Reese sometimes wondered if Finch had any hobbies at all, but then he’d pull out things like baseball, of all things.

They reached the bed and Finch flopped down heavily onto it. He removed shoes, tie, and waistcoat clumsily but independently before he paused, looking up at Reese with a cloudy expression on his face. It reminded Reese more than a little of the time Finch had come back from fieldwork drugged.

“But where will you sleep?” Reese didn’t know if he had ever seen Finch look more distressed by something. Considering their line of work, Reese couldn’t help but find that a little bit adorable. He made a mental note to never share that line of thought; it could only end badly for him.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something” he said, his thoughts running to Texas, to Carter, to a bathtub that he definitely had, this time. Even half asleep, Finch could apparently still follow his thinking without him having to say anything. Finch glared up at Reese, expression more suspicious than angry.

Reese quirked an eyebrow at him and started to move away, but Finch darted one hand out with more speed and accuracy than Reese would have thought he was capable of, even under normal circumstances, and grabbed the sleeve of Reese’s shirt.

“This bed is large enough for two people. For three people. I checked.”

“Did you now?”

Finch breathed out a frustrated little sigh and tugged sharply at his sleeve, which Reese interpreted as ‘Really, now, Mister Reese.’

“Alright, Harold.” Reese removed Finch’s hand from his sleeve gently, uncurling one finger at a time. “You get comfortable, I’m going to go get ready for bed, and I’ll be right back.”

Finch bobbed his head and got to work on the long line of buttons on his shirt as Reese turned to go. Bear hurried past him as he walked toward the bathroom, happily flopping down on the dog bed that Reese had placed there earlier.

Reese took his time, brushed his teeth, changed into a loose t-shirt and yoga pants, thought about putting the finishing details on the cake, but decided that it could wait until the morning. Or, well, later in the morning, anyway. He walked back to the bed to find that Finch had almost managed to tuck himself away.

Finch lay half under the covers, half out, with one foot still on the floor (that foot still had a sock on it.) He had managed to get his shirt off, but had discarded it without thought so that it landed on top of the dog, who didn’t really seem to mind. His belt was most of the way out of the loops, and his glasses were still firmly planted on his nose. He was snoring lightly. All in all, it didn’t look like a very comfortable position for someone with a normal spine and undamaged hip, let alone someone like Finch.

Reese made quick work of most of the dangling bits of Finch’s wardrobe; he decided to leave the shirt where it was--Bear really did look so pleased with it. He removed Finch’s glasses as gently as he could, then folded the arms and placed them in easy reach on the nightstand. When he looked back at Finch, it was to find Finch watching him right back. Somehow, his eyes looked even bigger without the frames. It was a little unnerving.

But as long as he was even marginally awake, he could help get himself actually into bed, Reese figured. Reese lifted the covers up so that Finch would have easier access and tapped on his hip twice to indicate that he should actually swing his body the rest of the way onto the bed. Finch complied with a happy little sigh.

Task complete, Reese crawled under the covers from the other side. He waited a moment before laying down, Finch still watching him from under drooping eyelids.

“Roll over onto your side” he told Finch as he scooted closer.

“Why?” Finch looked like he was trying to fight back to full consciousness and failing miserably.

“You’re always stiffer in the morning,” Reese replied. “My body heat will keep your muscles a bit looser.”

Finch burbled out a sound that could have been a reply if viewed in a kind light and turned over, accepting Reese’s reasoning. Reese moved in so that Finch’s back was pressed flush against his front. He slid one arm underneath Finch’s head so that his neck would stay straight, removing as much strain as possible, and wrapped the other arm around his body so that they’d stay locked in that position.

“Is this alright?”

Finch’s reply was a happy hum and a gentle stroke of fingers against the back of his hand. Reese felt Finch unwind slowly into sleep.

“You’ve got first watch,” he told Bear, who thumped his tail once in understanding. Then Reese nestled his face into the curve of Finch’s neck and followed him into sleep.

 


End file.
